


(i want to be) brilliant to you

by unhappyrefrain



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - E-Sports, Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Arcades, DDR isnt just the cute arcade fad from the 00s that died out in a few years, Dance Dance Revolution - Freeform, M/M, Mind Games, Rating May Change, Reclaimed Slurs, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Rivals to Lovers, Tournaments, Unresolved Sexual Tension, also everyones adults and in their mid 20s, also saihara is RIPPED bc tell me those night workouts didnt make him Sculpted, healthy dose of rhythm game jargon, i am writing the DDR fic i wish to see in the world, it has a thriving worldwide community and a dedicated competitive scene, realistic depiction of DDR play and community
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain/pseuds/unhappyrefrain
Summary: Ouma Kokichi, competitive Dance Dance Revolution player, is on the fast track to burnout. He has cleared every song in the game and holds all the machine records at his local game center. His skill is unmatched, his tournament records full of victories. And he's getting bored because, as much as he loves winning, it's no fun if there's no worthy competition.Until Saihara Shuichi walks into the Ikebukuro Round 1 and turns everything Kokichi thought he knew upside down.(A rivals-to-lovers AU with a healthy dose of DDR community culture, because no one ever writes DDR right in fics.)
Relationships: Iruma Miu & Oma Kokichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	1. CHAOS (Terror-Tech Mix) CSP

**Author's Note:**

> my first published saiou... and it's THIS. okay. i see how it is.
> 
> so basically: i am a committed DDR and rhythm game player and i'm deeply involved in the online and irl community. i've seen a few fics here and there that have DDR in them, but just as the funny little arcade fad from the 00s. and they're always the ones where one kid is way too good at it and everyone is so impressed with them and then another kid comes in and wants to beat them and there's a training montage. and i've never ever seen someone write the actual gameplay like it really is for dedicated players. so i did this. 
> 
> be warned that there's a lot of jargon thrown around, and most of the terms i've used are listed in [this amazing glossary](https://ddrguide.com/glossary) from ddrguide, so please check that out while reading. also in reading this fic, clicking the links on the songs/charts when you see them is REQUIRED, so you can get an actual idea of what's being played. i hope this is enjoyable even with all the confusing terminology, because at its core it's just rivals-to-lovers saiou with serious sexual tension and honestly? if you're just reading for them? valid. you're valid too.

Ouma Kokichi, dancer name OUMAGOD, has been at the DDR A20 machine in the Ikebukuro Round1 for three hours.

He's just now getting to the peak point in his session, where the initial exhaustion is long gone and the jittery energy of the second and third wind has resolved into a constant airflow. His timing is impeccable, his form is strong and stable; his stamina, as always, could use some work, but he's focusing on the 15s and 16s today, nothing too dense or technical. He's been cursed for a month with two Greats— not even a flag! Just two of them!— on [The World Ends Now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fdsiOqTHuM), and his goal for the session is to break that curse and get the PFC before the end of the day. The song is enough of a banger to play over and over again without Kokichi feeling annoyed. The chart is fun. He's doing good.

Until the Normie Hype Train™ walks in from the redemption games section and starts their incessant oohing and aahing. God. Please shut up. Thankfully Kokichi isn't the kind to overthink it and trip over his feet while he's being watched. He likes showing off, to an extent. Even though he'd much rather have attention from other DDR players than the dreaded Normie Hype Train™.

He's already preparing his standard answers for the remarks that come up every time. _You're so good at this game!_ Thanks. _How long have you been playing?_ Ten years, give or take. _I didn't know people still played DDR!_ A practiced vaguely irritated glare that could fall anywhere between disappointed annoyance and dull offense. That usually embarrasses them enough to get them to back off. He zones out, turning the default answers over in his head; he flubs the jumpjack around the 277 combo and picks up a few frantic Greats. Damn. He was doing so well too. Now the rest of his run stops mattering, and his timing slips, and despite wanting to look impressive he realizes there's no point in continuing a ruined run, so he fails out. Suddenly uninterested, with their pathetic attention span just as easily captivated by the sleepy-looking girl on the IIDX machine, the Normie Hype Train™ moves on. Kokichi feels almost bad for Chiaki. Now she has to deal with all the questions.

It gives him some time to breathe, though. He takes a long swig from his water bottle, pats his hairline dry with the towel on the bar, and flaps his shirt from the collar to air out the inside. One of the other regulars wanders over from the Sound Voltex machine. It's Tenko— dancer name CHABIAN— the powerful lesbian who Kokichi jokes could crush his head with her thighs but could never crush him on the panels. They're friends, though vitriolically.

"What, did you think the non-dancey games would magically get easier today?" Kokichi teases. Tenko makes a scoffing sound.

"It doesn't make sense. Tenko just isn't catching on. Maybe it's the reading speed...?"

"I told you, just because you're good at one rhythm game doesn't mean you'll automatically be good at all of them. Especially when it comes to dancing versus finger games." Kokichi waves his hand dismissively, and presses all the way out of the logout screen to free up the cab for someone else. Presumably Tenko, who he thought was going to play but instead is doing that weird thing with her mouth that Kokichi still thinks should not be possible on a human face.

"But Tenko's girlfriend says Tenko is good with her hands so what's the problem?"

Kokichi slowly closes his eyes, raises his eyebrows, and inhales. Just this response is enough to have her snort a laugh, scan her e-amuse card on the player 2 side, and hop on.

"Have fun, you useless lesbian," Kokichi pipes up. "Go for the piff on Put Your Faith in Me, I know you love those big bara muscle men on the cover."

Tenko makes an audible gagging sound in response.

He spends his break between sets wandering around in the general rhythm game area. Chiaki is back at the IIDX machine, free from the ever-watching eyes of the Hype Train™ and concentrating strongly on clearing X-DEN, so he doesn't dare disturb her. Tenko's girlfriend, a petite redhead who he's never seen without a stereotypical witch hat on her head, is messing with the long-neglected Quiz Magical Academy machine. A few other players Kokichi knows peripherally but not personally are congregated around the Pump it Up cab. They notice him; he pretends not to notice them. So it goes.

By the time he floats back to the A20, drawn back by the loud noises of the menu timer at the logout screen, Tenko has gone off, presumably to be a big lesbian with her girlfriend. She left her stuff there, though, so Kokichi knows she'll be back for another set. At least she's courteous enough; she knows the rules, the etiquette. He grabs his water bottle and towel that he had hastily stuffed into his tote bag after the set, and moves towards the front of the cab to swipe and sign in, when he notices a face there that he's never noticed before.

A man about a good fifteen centimeters taller than him, with straight chin-length hair that looks almost navy-tinted under the light and an ahoge of inordinate size, is fretting about the cab and putting down all his stuff. Kokichi almost laughs at the length of that damn ahoge before his eyes drift to the man's back and his jaw drops. His otherwise lean frame hides well-sculpted back muscles, exposed by his exercise tank top; Kokichi watches him crouch and sees his calf muscle in stark relief against the bone of his leg like a Greek statue. Praise be to all the patron gods of male homoeroticism. When he stands back up and turns to face him, it's all Kokichi can do to dig his heels in and try not to die, because _holy shit._ His face is... gentle, androgynous, in obvious contrast to the masculine features of his chiseled body. His eyes are a pale grey-gold, the color of wet sand on a beach, and he has long, full eyelashes that even Miu would be jealous of.

Kokichi is a healthy, red-blooded twink of a gay man, well-versed in the study of Hot Guys in Your Area, but he's never seen anyone this attractive at the Round 1. DDR players around here are mostly cute nerds, some chubby and some awkwardly lanky, most of whom haven't had their first gay awakening yet. And they're adorable in their own way. But a hunk like this is a rare sight in these parts.

The man's eyes raise to meet his own. Kokichi, the smooth bastard that he is, notices he's staring a little, but he doesn't make a big deal out of it, and immediately the guy relaxes.

"Did you wanna get on?" Kokichi asks him. In his head he's preparing for another casual match against an intermediate player, pushing into their first 15s and unfamiliar with the new horizons and new dangers that lie there. He's ready to give gentle tips if Cute Guy is receptive to it. Play a song that he's trying to time better, so that the sound of Kokichi's steps can be a guideline. And then maybe buy him a celebratory drink, and see if he makes a move, and make out with him in the bathroom stall—

"Oh... yeah. If it's not too much trouble," Intermediate Hunk demurs, and the apologetic tone only further cements what Kokichi already knows. They both swipe their cards.

"2p's better, if you want to switch sides before you sign in," Kokichi offers, but Hot Boy shakes his head.

"I'm fine. I'll test this side for myself first before I make any decisions." His tone is quiet, but resolute. "Thank you, though." And he touches his pass to the reader almost simultaneously with Kokichi. The name that pops up has him stifling a giggle.

What kind of player name is SHUMAI?

The said Shumai, bless him, glances up at Kokichi's login. "Oh," and his face lights up with recognition. "You're Ouma! I see you stream from here a lot... you're really good."

"That's OUMAGOD, pronounced like the English _oh my god_ , to you," Kokichi jokes. Shumai _actually_ sputters and half-bows in apology. It makes Kokichi nearly lose it. "Wow, you're so serious! I was joking. Just Ouma is fine. Do you always get so nervous with other players?"

Shumai hems and haws as they choose versus play. "I'm like this with everyone," he admits. Oh, that's adorable.

"Speaking of which, I've never seen you around. You're not from here, are you? I haven't even seen your name on Twitter, so... are you new to DDR?"

Shumai waves his hands in front of him frantically. "No, no, I play regularly! But you're right, I'm new to the area. I just moved here from Hokkaido, and I don't really have a Twitter or anything like that... I sort of lurk."

The characteristic wubs of song selection music begins to play. Kokichi, as is etiquette, motions for Shumai to pick. "We can play anything you want, if you're working on something or just want to warm up."

But Shumai does the same shy head-shake, same wavy-hands, declining bashfully. "No, you go ahead. I'm not working on a lot right now." He changes the sort system to level-based for good measure.

And that's the moment Kokichi notices that all Shumai's level-sorted folders are _lamped_.

The lower level folders up to 15 are decorated with brilliant flashing white and yellow lights, while higher levels flash green or red, and by the 18s and 19s, eventually resolve into a steady yellow glow.

 _Oh_.

Kokichi's every synapse is electrified.

"If you say so," he singsongs, and there's a sudden unintended lilt to his voice that almost feels dangerous. "Are we warming up or going straight in?"

"Warming up, please," Shumai sighs, bringing his knee up against his toned abs— stretching his calves— his arms, and Kokichi feels the crackle of horny lightning down his spine. Horny, and intrigued. Actually _interested_. "I spent four hours on the bullet train yesterday. Just moved in. I could definitely use some loosening up."

_Did he just say that?????_

Kokichi is feeling more and more inclined to punish him, and they literally just met.

"How about we loosen up with a 17?" Kokichi smirks. "None of those flimsy, half-baked 16.8s. A good, _solid_ 17\. How about that?"

He hopes Shumai didn't miss the innuendo.

The softness around Shumai's eyes hardens when they make eye contact, and Kokichi nearly flinches at the sudden knife-sharp determination. Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanishes, and Shumai looks accommodating, docile, nodding his agreement while Kokichi opens the 17s folder and scrolls down until he finds exactly what he was looking for. [CHAOS Terror-Tech Mix CSP.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsABvCE4vYU) The Expert chart is a fun little 16, but it doesn't have half the stops and mindgames that it should. But the Challenge chart? Oh _yes_.

Ouma thrives in chaos. Gimmicky, confusing charts are his jam. He's nimble and perceptive on his feet, can read speed changes by the millisecond; he studies the charts hard, memorizes the song, then commits any stops, speedups or slowdowns to muscle memory. He isn't sure what kind of player Shumai is yet (though he makes a mental note to find out) but this is suddenly _competitive_ , and he suddenly needs to show off. Why wouldn't he choose what he's good at?

Kokichi glances at his opponent, as if asking permission. Too bad, he's going to choose this chart whether or not Shumai likes it.

But Shumai, apart from what sounds like a long-suffering sigh, is unfazed. And it makes Kokichi even more aggressive. He glances at his new rival's personal best for the song. 970k. It seems like either he is incompatible with the chart, or just hasn't played it enough to upscore. Or doesn't care.

(Kokichi, naturally, flaunts his hard-earned PFC. Though the MA could be a little better, he supposes. He _supposes_.)

Shumai, as if already accepting his fate, has long since entered his options and is waiting impatiently for Kokichi's confirmation. Kokichi glances back at Shumai, hoping to see that inexplicable steel-edged competitive look in his eyes. And he finds it. Oh _God_ , does he find it.

Well, if he's going to die of boner, he has to save it for the next song. He will _enjoy_ this chart, damn it.

He takes a quick glance again at Shumai's form, who is gripping the bar like he's trying to strangle someone, until he notices Kokichi's eyes on him and bites his lip, averting his gaze shyly. Clever boy. He seems to like a good mind game. In which case, Kokichi reasons, this will be _so_ much fun.

As expected, the song goes mostly in Kokichi's favor. He doesn't get a lot of opportunities to look at his opponent, of course; both his legs and brain have memorized this chart, and the candle triplets in the middle carry Kokichi away in a hazy, endorphin-laced trance he feels like he'd long forgotten. There is a new spark in him— how could he ever think he was burning out? This is what he lives for, especially with the new stimulus of an actually skilled, competent player on his other side, someone he has to actively _work_ to beat. Hitting arrows is love, hitting arrows is life, and in a miracle of science, motivation, and gay rivalry, Ouma Kokichi enters flow state and everything else fades away.

Of course, because he still can't have nice things, he autopilots a little too hard and forgets to cross over near the end, and the awkward doublestep he tries to pull earns him one (1) Great and one (1) Good. But otherwise, he's been impeccable. He barely notices his heart beating against his ribcage. The song ends in a pleasant haze, and then he is snapped harshly back to reality when he looks over and sees Shumai on his other side.

He notices three things.

One: Shumai has upscored by a whole 15k, placing him at a new personal best with a solid 980k. He doesn't have the AAA yet, but he's got more Misses than Greats, and his MA is admittedly top-tier. Though he still didn't come anywhere close to Kokichi's natural AAA, the sheer jump in score startles Kokichi in a very primal way. A shift in motivation, possibly, just like his own.

Two: Shumai was sexy even before he was sweaty. But now that he's sweaty, now that his hair is mussed and his lips are bitten-red from breathing hard and his eyes are half-lidded and the bashful expression on his face has long since hardened into true, fire-forged tenacity, Kokichi is immediately 300% gayer. This figure is bumped up by another 100% when they make eye contact, and he gets the full brunt of Shumai's competitive expression. The man looks like he wants to _devour_ him. Kokichi might have to go home after this set.

And three: Shumai is suddenly not looking at him anymore and is picking his own song.

"Okay, it's your pick," Kokichi offers redundantly. Shumai just nods. Then he closes the 17s folder. Then he opens the 18s folder. Then he moves to [Triple Journey CSP.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOgjbjApoTY)

Kokichi feels his fingers go slightly numb. So that's the kind of player Shumai is.

Triple Journey isn't the hardest 18 per se, but it's pretty solid, and Kokichi definitely didn't warm up enough for this, because what this song tests is straightforward tech and stamina. And that's not exactly his strong point. Being under 160cm and having short legs and small feet doesn't do him any favors when it comes to stamina conservation— he needs to move his legs a little further, press down a little harder than others to light up the sensors. It's a sore spot for him, though he still outmatches everyone who plays at this arcade in spite of it. And the way Shumai looks at him before pressing the white middle button to select the song has Kokichi realizing that Shumai has _figured this out._

Oh, he's dangerous, all right. This man is a thrill he hasn't experienced in ages. Kokichi finally feels forced back on his toes, taut and responsive, documenting every strength and weakness. The intensity with which Shumai scrutinizes him as well when he thinks Kokichi's not looking makes him think he's feeling the same way. Shumai isn't careless; every move he makes, every option he chooses, is done with deliberate motions. The menu timer almost feels slow compared to how fast his brain is going, and he feels like he's been thrown into an alternate dimension where time isn't quite the same and boys like Shumai are actually real life.

Kokichi feels a bit dizzy and more than a little hot, but he takes a big nonchalant swig from his water bottle to cool down and hopefully throw Shumai off his trail. He can't be showing weakness now. He selects his speedmod and double-presses the white button, impatient, but Shumai seems to be waiting the timer out, just to take as much of a breather before the stamina test that will be their next song.

They lock eyes again. The menu timer is so _fucking_ loud. Kokichi feels his heart jump when it finally closes and sends them to the song. Oh, he's about to _hate_ this.

When it starts, Kokichi has one thought shooting through his head like a stabbing pain: _conserve your damn stamina_. He's psyching himself out already, and once the 96 bpm bit at the beginning snaps into a blazing 192, he consciously tries to flatten his feet to keep his energy through the stepjumps. Footspeed... is fun, but it is also his enemy, and Kokichi knows if he wastes too much on the jumps and triplets in the beginning then he'll have no juice left for the long horrible 16th note streams in the middle and end. He thinks about looking over at Shumai but decides against it. Losing would be the worst thing to happen right about now, even if he's very sure Shumai has the advantage.

Brain switch off. Kokichi grips the bar harder and lets his feet go. Most of the chart is straightforward except for those high-speed hip-breaking crossover triplets that keep coming in and out every so often, but he can already feel new and heavy drops of sweat sliding between his shoulder blades and trickling down his forehead. He's no longer gliding on air like he was before; he really should have warmed up more before jumping straight into 18s.

He breaks his combo somewhere around the 240 mark— there's a turn there that he completely missed. Breathing normally stops happening. Not even the relatively tame middle bit with mostly 8th notes feels like enough of a break. He's hitting the jumps but he's picking up a few Greats here and there— late. He's only late when he's tired. Too many triplets, machine-gun speed, one after the other. Kokichi doesn't even try to cross over for one of the runs in the chorus and somewhere in there his combo turns blue, and then breaks. He goes into the final run of the chorus and feels his stomach drop when he under-extends on the up arrow and racks up maybe 4 misses. Why would anyone need this many candle streams at 192 bpm? Why would anyone need this many candle streams at _all?_

Oh no. Oh no no no. Kokichi is weak and will not survive the winter. He doesn't have the time to look at Shumai's score but he hopes pointlessly to the DDR gods that he's winning. There's stepjumps and they're fine, but the ending run is coming and he knows it's mostly staircases and— his brain just shuts off and autopilots the stairs, grabbing another few Greats. He conveniently forgets that there is an awful little crossover right at the end of the stream and he nearly feels his hip break trying to hit it at the last second.

Ouch.

Ouch ouch ouch. Everything still hurts but there's something more important. He looks at his score and he looks at Shumai's and it takes more than a few seconds to sink in. He blinks. It hasn't changed.

Shumai was 5 Greats and 2 misses from the PFC. Kokichi has 16 Greats and 5 misses that he doesn't even want to think about. Not only this, but Shumai has stolen his machine record.

For the first time in nearly four years, Ouma Kokichi has lost a match.

And it feels... exhilarating.

It's like he's been hit in the chest with a bolt of heat lightning. He looks at Shumai with wide, stunned eyes, hoping he doesn't look as stupid as he feels. Shumai's gaze is razor sharp, until it's not, and his long eyelashes flutter and he _oh God_ what is this boy doing— he's bowing, flustered, and _apologizing_?

"I'm— I'm very sorry for stealing your machine record! I just started playing here so I wasn't expecting to take records and I feel kind of bad—"

"Wh. I. Why are you apologizing? You earned it, stupid," Kokichi barks, a little harsher than he meant it to be, and Shumai blinks and then straightens up, wiping his face with his towel and sighing.

"Ye-yeah. I don't, don't know what got into me. I'm sorry. One more song, then?"

"One more song. But you were _mean_ to me so I get to choose this time." Kokichi sticks his tongue out. Shumai narrows his eyes, and the stutter in his voice does nothing to dampen the humorous resolve of his next words.

"If, if you choose a 19 I'm walking off the pads."

Kokichi laughs until his sides hurt too much to play another round. They pick Egoism 440 and fail out of it, sitting on the pads and trying not to look each other in the eyes.

When Shumai logs out, in the interval before he presses the white button, Kokichi snaps a photo of his rival code, muffling the sound of the shutter with his thumb. Shumai doesn't seem to notice, too concerned with his own post-set ritual. He grabs his towel from the bar and wipes his face and hair from the bottom up, which is somehow unfairly sexy. Dragging the towel up from his neck to his chin, tilting his head back gently as his elbows rise, giving Kokichi a perfect view of his sculpted triceps, running it all the way to his hairline and then back through his hair— his sweat-damp bangs fall back into his face and over his eyes, lidded from exhaustion and breath, and it's somehow the most erotic thing Kokichi has ever witnessed.

Oh, he is _so_ fucked. He has to get home right now and take a cold shower and calm down. There aren't words between them now, because words are mostly fake. Kokichi knows now just through that one set what Shumai is like, much more than if they had met at a bar and talked and flirted. He's shy, self-effacing and kind of dorky, but there's something so dangerous about him when he's playing that Kokichi wants to burn into his eyes, to memorize.

He definitely needs to go home, because even if he weren't starting to get a boner, he's hungry and Miu definitely won't cook dinner for them without burning it. But because Kokichi is a distinguished-passing disaster gay, he manages to pull Shumai aside on the way out.

"I never caught your name," he says, voice mostly breath at this point.

"Saihara. Saihara Shuichi."

It's a lovely name, but now Kokichi knows where he got the nickname from.

"Mmm. Well, Saihara- _chan_ , I've got things to do and places to go, but you should check your reverse rival list when you get home."

"I'll add you." Shumai— _Saihara's_ voice is rough and in a lower register than usual. He doesn’t even seem to care that Kokichi snuck a picture of his code.

"I look forward to playing with you from now on," Kokichi purrs. He hopes Saihara doesn't notice his hand trembling when he brushes a thumb lightly, teasingly, over the bone of his wrist.

Then, slinging his tote bag over his shoulder, he turns and leaves before Saihara can ask further questions, or notice the full-body blush, or the way the front of his gym shorts seem a little too tight to be comfortable.

* * *

"Hey, shrimpdick," his stupid best friend shouts from the couch as Kokichi walks into the apartment, taking off his shoes. "You're home early."

"Hey, bitchlet," he salutes, barefoot and moving through the genkan. Miu turns around as he passes and gives his ass a swat. "Jeez, do you have to do that every time I get home from the arcade?"

"Can't help it! Your ass is just getting firmer every day from all that dancey game. I gotta do... experiments." Miu sinks back down into the couch. The TV is on and her Switch is docked and she's been playing Link's Awakening which is _surprisingly_ pure and endearing, but the screen is dim, so she's obviously had it on pause for a good amount of time. Probably sexting one of her many hookups. Well, Kokichi isn't judging.

"If you say so, Your Sluttiness," Kokichi scoffs, plodding over to open the fridge. Try as he might to settle back into his epithet-littered vitriolic best friend routine with his longtime roommate, he can't seem to shake a specific image from his head: the way Shumai looked as he casually overwrote Kokichi's machine record on Triple Journey CSP. The tight, coiled-spring condensed power of his form. His large feet, graceful and efficient, advantageous for bracketing, ( _and you know what they say about men with large feet,_ his brain supplies, and Kokichi has to whack himself on the head for that one.) The deeply etched deltoids, his back muscles working and flexed as he gripped the bar. The way he turned to Kokichi and _apologized_ , red-faced and gentle-eyed, for stealing his machine record. How soft and light and high his voice was— how Kokichi could see just as much confidence and dedication as there was sweat dripping from his pores, every powerful inch of him, every compact muscle, every exhilarating reason to fear him.

"Cockitchy," Miu calls.

God. He really is fucked. He hasn't felt like that in years, watching someone else play. Playing _alongside_ someone else. Triple Journey may have been a weak spot for him, but it still didn't justify him losing. He hasn't lost in years. Kokichi is left with a bitter taste in his mouth and a racing pulse, a blush unrelated to the exercise.

"Kok-ecchi. Microthot. Ou-face— _bitch I am talking to you_ ," Miu finally shrieks, and Kokichi whips around so hard he feels his back crack.

"Oh my god shut _up_ , what is it."

Miu looks him over, top to bottom. Picking up his red face, his nervous shaking foot, his vacant stare into the depths of the fridge where only expired ketchup dares make its home. The tight front of Kokichi's workout shorts.

"I was gonna tell you to close the fucking fridge and stop wasting electricity but holy shit _why_ do you have a boner? Does leftover yakiudon turn you on? What's going on in that pervy little rat brain of yours?" Miu taunts, but Kokichi sees the genuine interest— the concern— in her expression.

"One, I don't have a boner. Two..."

He forgets what he was going to say so he gives up on the list, grabs a bottle of Panta from the fridge door, and plops down on the couch with Miu.

"Never mind that. You're never going to believe this. I met a _boy_ —"

Miu interrupts him with a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my godddd. Did you do it? Did you fuck him in the bathroom stall? On the dancey gamey machine? Wait, you're a bottom, did he fuck _you_ on the dancey gamey machine?"

"I am not a _bottom_ I am a _vers_ and if you would close your filthy mouth—"

Miu, mercifully, shuts up.

"I met a boy, he's ridiculously sexy, and he might actually be as good at DDR a—"

She seems to register the first two parts but not the last. "What does he look like? Is he ripped? Maybe he could crush my head with his bare hands. Did you get his number? When are you gonna have him over? Are you gonna kick me out so you can get laid? Do you think he's kinky? As kinky as you are?"

"You didn't even let me finish," Kokichi sighs. "Disregard the fact that he's probably the sexiest hunk of meat this side of Ikebukuro. He is _on my level_."

"So?"

"Oh my God. Cum-for-brains do you even _know_ me."

"Bitch if I didn't know you we wouldn't be sitting right next to each other on the couch gossiping about hot men." Miu crosses her arms. "But I'm not a video game nerd like you are, I'm a Productive Nerd That Contributes To Society—"

Kokichi snorts.

"So I don't know all this dancey game stuff. Explain," she finally finishes, her arms still crossed, but Kokichi can tell she's actually willing to listen to him. Which is nice. He appreciates that.

"Okay, so basically I'm the best DDR player in the area, right?" Miu rolls her eyes, but she knows he's right. "And I'm not even bragging about that. No one else has ever come close. I win all the tournaments, I hold all the machine records, and as much as I love winning, it's so boring when none of my opponents are even worth the effort."

"You stopped talking about tournaments earlier this year. Didja just stop going or what?"

"Yeah. They were boring and I thought I'd stop sandbagging and give other people the chance to win."

“How generous of you,” Miu drawls, sarcastic. Kokichi lies back and extends his legs on the couch over Miu’s lap. She makes a token resistance and pushes them off her knees, making pointless disagreement noises, before he sets them back up again and she doesn’t even bother.

“So I haven’t really cared about those tournaments since then. I never go to them. I just started playing on my own, and with the other regulars, and we stream when they’ll let us set up the stream…” Kokichi yawns, stretches his arms as far as he can, like a cat elongating itself. “I don’t know any of the names in the area other than the friends I already have, and I don’t really care. Untillllll…”

“Until?”

“This sexy man walks in.”

Miu squeals.

“He comes in while I’m walking around after my set, and he’s already putting his stuff down by the cab, and he’s bending over so I only get to see his back for a bit but then he stands up and the way he stands up makes his back muscles flex in his tank top—"

Miu squeals _again_.

“And he is so hot, he’s so sculpted he looks like a Greek statue, and then I see his face and it’s so… beautiful? And he has these looong fucking eyelashes. I don’t know how he pulls it off with his body being so Peak Male Performance, but his face is just pretty and soft and androgynous and his voice kind of is too. I can’t explain it but it’s really sexy. The contrast.” Kokichi huffs out a breath and rolls over, pressing his face into the pillow propped against the arm of the couch. “His whole demeanor is sort of shy and self-effacing too, and he’s always like, apologetic? And he says he recognizes my handle and has watched my streams and shit. So then I kind of think, you know, he must be an intermediate player, just doing his best or whatever but not tournament-level, and I let him play a match with me just in case he’s working on something and needs my help with timing. And then we get to the song select and _he has lamped all the folders._ ”

Miu blinks. “And what does that even mean. Do I care?”

“It means _he’s cleared every song in the game_ , and also he’s gotten perfect scores on all the songs up to a certain difficulty. Basically, I haven’t seen someone with that many lamps in real life. I’ve never heard of him before! He says he doesn’t have a Twitter or post scores, he just lurks. And apparently he just moved here from Hokkaido. So that’s why I had no idea he existed. But now he’s in my area and he’s the only player at my Round 1 who is anywhere near my level. And then we played a few songs and he actually beat me on one of them and it was the first time I’d lost in years.” He lets out a deep sigh, rolls back over to face the ceiling, and covers his face with his forearm. “And that’s my story. Also his name is Saihara and he used the ingame name Shumai which is so fucking cute and dorky, what the hell.”

Miu braces her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees, and stares at Kokichi. A long silence ensues, during which Kokichi takes out his phone and absently starts scrolling through his timeline, just to spite her.

Then she finally inhales, sits up, and tells him, “Yeah, you got it bad.”


	2. era (nostalmix) ESP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kokichi runs into Saihara again at the arcade, and challenges him to an ill-advised drinking game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG here's my explanation: i have a bunch of this done but it wasn't particularly written in a way that could facilitate breaking it up into chapters, and i got stuck writing any further so i couldn't figure out how to break up what i had. but thanks to whoever it was that literally went out of their way to DM my husband about this fic, you're the reason i'm throwing this out here and probably why i need to keep going with it.  
> ugh man i love to write but it's always cut to the feeling and out of order and i never know how to fill in the blanks. i also hope it's not a pain to work thru all the jargon here. the glossary for this fic is still [here](https://ddrguide.com/glossary) and it encompasses pretty much everything i refer to in this fic, except for the IIDX references around chiaki but she's having fun let her live

The Triple Journey Incident, as Kokichi has begun to call it in his head, has hit him with a powerful and painful revelation: he needs to get _better._

No matter that no one else in the area besides Saihara can measure up to his skill right now. No matter that he doesn't even want to go to tournaments anymore. There is still work he can be doing! He should not have lost, and even if he had been playing alone, he should not have gotten such a relatively bad score. There is always more to work on, and he hates that he had to be beaten by someone else to realize that, but so it goes.

This is why, less than 24 hours after that humiliating loss, Kokichi is back at the Round 1. No discouragement, no more hesitation. He's warming up with 17s, pushing through that exhaustion and perfecting his MA, going back to PFC a bunch of flags in the 16 folder— he gets The World Ends Now, finally, and District of the Shadows happens after just two tries. He already has the PFC on it but he also tries to up his MA on Maxx Unlimited, because he's a dirty old-school player who still adores the pre-rerate charts, when boss songs were boss songs and not every other song, and they only appeared on extra stage with weird mods and an unforgiving lifebar. He's having a great time, and manages to get under 20 Perfects. The SDP might be evasive right now, but he'll get it soon. It's a good day.

A few normies stop by to watch, but they don't pull the whole Hype Train™ bullshit, and it turns out that a dad and his little kid want to play, which Kokichi thinks is the sweetest goddamn thing in the world, so he walks them through it and even lets the kid use his e-amuse and Paseli for premium play, so when he fails his first song (as is inevitable) he still gets two more. Chiaki wanders over from the IIDX machine to watch him— he glances back and sees her standing there with her sleepy eyes, a very warm smile on her face, and he pulls down his eyelid and sticks his tongue out at her as if to say _don't you dare tell anyone about this._ She winks, which Kokichi thought was impossible because both her eyes are almost always half-closed, and floats back to IIDX, apparently still trying to clear Kaiden.

The kid, who looks around 7, is actually kind of better at DDR than the dad. He walks them through [ Lesson by DJ, ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHBTJ_-haNw) situating himself on the kid's right side and prompting him when he needs to step, and the kid seems to kind of get it? The dad keeps getting weird Goods and Misses because he's anticipating the arrows too fast and forgetting that there's actually music playing. But the kid has a sense of rhythm and, apart from not really having the added advantage of knowing the English for right, left, up up, down down, he's stepping in time. He lets them play after both of them somehow manage to make it through without their dance bar emptying, but not before sorting by level and opening the level 1 folder for them, just in case.

He doesn't notice Saihara watching until Chiaki, fresh out of failing Kaiden _again,_ peeks around the corner of the cab and gestures to look behind him. Eyes wide, he turns around to find his new rival with the warmest, cutest little smile on his face. He must have been watching Kokichi being soft almost the entire time. Kokichi feels a blush rising to his face that he knows could go up to the tips of his ears if he isn't careful, and he wills it away. Saihara walks up to his side and gives a gentle chuckle.

"Watching little kids learn how to play is always heartwarming, isn't it?" Saihara says, and Kokichi just wants to sink into the floor out of sheer humiliation, but also kiss him at the same time because his voice is just so so _pretty._ Ugh. Miu was right. He really _does_ have it bad. The words "stop being so cute and soft all the time" really want to come out of his mouth right about now, but he bites them back.

"Yeah. Gotta pass it on to the next generation, right? Future KAC champ right here," he grins and gestures to the boy, who is playing Setsuna Trip on Beginner and stepping with very strong enthusiasm.

"I wonder sometimes how much better at this game I would be if I had started that young," Saihara comments.

"When did you start?"

"I was 14. So maybe around the time X came out. But I was playing at home on a soft pad, on Extreme for the PS2. I had no idea everything had been rerated until I went to the game center with a friend two years later and had no idea what I was doing," he laughs.

"Wow. So you went straight from Extreme to X2," Kokichi hums. "That's the worst. The X era was honestly the lowest point in DDR."

"It was... bad," Saihara admits sheepishly. "But at least I have experience with no-bar play?"

Kokichi stifles a laugh. "Doesn't look it. You grip the bar like you’re trying to choke it.”

Saihara's brow furrows and his gaze turns hard. "If you have enough energy to provoke me, then get up and play a set with me."

Oh _whoops_ and now Kokichi's gay again. He chokes down a small noise of surprise and gestures at the kid and his dad occupying the machine, regaining his flow immediately. "Saihara-chan is _soooo_ impatient. Are you really in that much of a hurry to lose?"

He's purposely trying to egg him on now, and Saihara's jaw sets. The father-son duo is finishing their second stage, and they’re playing [ that awful albatross song from Sweden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_aJjb1ofi4), which is one of the only other level 1s in the folder. _At least play_ [ _This Beat Is_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddmh_SSUb-0) _if you’re going to play a 1,_ Kokichi thinks. Saihara still won't match him with a response, which is more frustrating than he thought it would be, and he probably knows it.

Fortunately, (or unfortunately? Kokichi can't tell which,) Chiaki finally floats back around the corner, and waves sleepily at Kokichi and Saihara by extension. The tension between the two of them drops off into nothing when Saihara turns to her and gives the softest nervous smile, the tilt of his eyebrows apologetic, his breathtaking long eyelashes fluttering. _Ughhhhh_ he's so cute. Chiaki bobs her way over to them— Kokichi is always stunned at how fluid and ghostly her gait is, like she's gliding half-asleep an inch over the ground— and greets Saihara, yawning all the while.

"Haven't seen you around before," she says, her intonation a lazy meander. "You Kokichi-kun's friend?"

"I suppose so," Saihara laughs nervously. "He's my rival, I think?"

"Hmph, as if I'd consider anyone so uncertain and wishy-washy to be worthy of my rivalry," Kokichi sniffs, faux-pompously. Chiaki giggles and Kokichi has a right mind to give her the death stare.

"Ouma-kun has been egging me on... Do you want to play a set with me instead?" Saihara asks her, like it's no big deal. Kokichi internally fumes; the _nerve_ his rival has to ask someone else to play right in front of him! But it's fine, he thinks, because Chiaki is way too lazy to take him up on that offer and will probably go right back to grinding Kaiden after declining— 

"Oh, sure. I'm not very good at dance games but I'll try."

Saihara smiles. Then he casts a glance at Kokichi and that smile becomes a challenge. There's a glint in his eyes that makes all the difference. Kokichi is furious, but also intrigued. His rival just loves to keep him guessing. And Chiaki is making all of this worse. Maybe she's caught on? Kokichi crosses his arms and sniffs, turning his nose up. Saihara gives that soft, tentative chuckle that Kokichi has learned to associate with the immediate aftermath and embarrassment of being even a little assertive. Chiaki grins and leads him over to the DDR machine; she's not wearing the right clothes for this at all, or the right shoes, but it's fine. It's not like she's one of those teenage girls on their way out from the mall, stopping by the machine and deciding it would be fun and a great idea to try to shatter the pads with their high heels.

Still, Kokichi pouts at Saihara playing versus with anyone but him, and slinks over to the bar to buy a pint of Kirin while the two are distracted. Which gives him an idea. He takes a long swig from the glass to keep the beer from spilling over while he walks back to the machine; he re-enters the area to find Saihara and Chiaki playing [ Brilliant 2U Orchestral Groove](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFoWzh73K20), which is an old favorite of his. Chiaki is surprisingly competent, in that way that rhythm game players who main other non-dancing games are competent at DDR because it's still a rhythm game. Saihara is doing the CSP, and is going no-bar since the chart is easy. He looks like he's having a great time.

Kokichi watches, feeling warmth spread in his chest. It's interesting, to see Saihara playing casually; he's not trying to compete with Kokichi, or impress anyone in particular. He's just playing DDR the way it was played in those first few glorious years. Kokichi remembers playing just like this when he was ten or eleven. No counting Greats or Perfects, no need to stress about scores or everyone else's records, just enjoying the song and the moment. When a full combo felt like the coolest thing in the world. He misses that.

Kokichi sits back against the wall and just soaks in the scenery. Saihara is light on his feet, playing with a levity he never expected to see from such a serious and straightforward boy. But he also hasn't broken his gold combo yet, so Kokichi knows he isn't just messing around— or rather, he doesn't have to be playing seriously to PFC the damn thing first try. Chiaki has good timing, even though she doesn't want to move much, and even though she's playing the Basic chart she still seems to be having fun with it. Kokichi doesn't know how Saihara brings out that kind of energy— in him, and now in Chiaki, and doubtlessly in anyone else he plays with. It's even more ironic that Saihara doesn't even seem to notice how people light up around him, even with his shy demeanor and nervous tics; he doesn't know how powerful he is. How powerful he could be. Kokichi takes another swig of beer as they finish up.

"Man, I haven't played like that since I was 11. I really miss it," he sighs.

Saihara turns around, like he had noticed Kokichi sitting there from the start, and gives him a tentative little wave. Kokichi winks back at him impishly, then stretches to the left to try to catch a glimpse of Saihara's score, which is currently being blocked by Saihara's perfect ass.

Once he moves, though, Kokichi isn't surprised, because his combo is just as perfect. Of course he PFCed it, and he wasn't really trying. Stuff like this is second nature now. It's not a personal best, but his MA is still admirable; Kokichi sighs and shakes his head. Then he catches Saihara's eye, and sticks his tongue out, before outright ignoring him in favor of turning to Chiaki and telling her, "Wow! Not bad for a lazy IIDX main."

Chiaki just shrugs. "It was on Basic, so I didn't have to move too much. It's just about timing."

Kokichi snorts. "You won't be saying that when you're hitting arrows consecutively rather than spaced out," he teases her.

She leans over the bar towards his spot on the floor, peering down at him with her curious, sleepy eyes. "We have one more song left. Pick for us?"

Saihara looks between her and Kokichi, also expectant; Kokichi sets his beer on the floor next to him and does a thonking face. "Mkay... play a IIDX crossover. One of the old ones. And Saihara-chan, you better SDP it."

Saihara blinks. "Depends which one."

"Uhhhh... how about [ Holic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2Wye-DzWHc), or something like that. A TaQ song."

"You have good taste," Saihara tells him, before opening the DDR 4th Mix folder.

Chiaki yawns. "Could be better. It could've been [Radical Faith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2Wye-DzWHc)." Kokichi rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his beer.

“The best TaQ song is obviously [Era Nostalmix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS0LWScpi9w), and no, I don’t take constructive criticism,” he fires back, settling into his spot to watch them play another song.

  
  


"So, uh, mind telling me why you're drinking already?" Saihara asks him, after they're done and Chiaki floats back to the IIDX machine. "We haven't even started our sets yet, so..."

"Oh, good question! See, I was going to ask you about this. We should play a game."

Saihara squints. "A drinking game? That's pro-probably not a good idea, if we're going to, to play DDR..." He then covers his mouth with his hand in thought, which Kokichi thinks is fucking _adorable_.

"See, the idea here is that we play, and whoever loses the song takes a sip of beer. We play until we're actually drunk, by the end of it all, we can see who's really better... when they're drunk."

Saihara looks at him incredulously. "So you're just trying to get me drunk so that you can have an easy win."

"Who said I'm trying to get you drunk? If you keep winning, you won't have to drink a sip!"

Saihara keeps looking at him, as if trying to decipher the cheerful look on Kokichi's face, before he finally sighs. "Fine. But I won't lose."

"Yaaaay!" Kokichi cheers, raising his glass.

"How, how old are you anyway? You kind of look young."

"Ohh, I'm only 16," he shrugs, and waits for the shocked expression on Saihara's face. It never comes. Saihara keeps looking at him, trying to suss him out. Finally, he speaks.

"You're lying."

"Oh? How do you know?"

Saihara's gaze is firm, his tone resolute. "For starters, you're drinking in the first place."

"I might have a fake ID," Kokichi challenges. But Saihara shakes his head. 

"Even if it were, you still drove to get here, which means you have to be over 20."

"Woah, creepy! How does Saihara-chan know I drove? Are you stalking me? I mean, I know I'm irresistible, but that's a little extra, don't you think?"

Sahara just sighs, apparently fed up with Kokichi's bullshit. He gestures at the arrow-patterned bag lying against the DDR machine. "Your, your keychain is hanging out of the front pocket of your backpack. A remote-control car key is on there. You drove your car to get here? Or to a train station, at least."

Kokichi blinks up at him, eyes sparkling. "Wow, so perceptive! Saihara-chan must fancy himself a detective, huh? Well, you caught me," he shrugs, and then spins another lie. "The truth is, I'm actually 32, and the reason I look so young is because of a rare genetic disorder."

Saihara blinks, and for a moment Kokichi thinks he's got him— but then his neutral thinking face returns just as quickly. (The one that Kokichi is admittedly starting to find _really_ hot.) "That's also a lie... isn't it?"

"Busted again! How did you know? Detective's intuition?" Kokichi sidles up close to Saihara, grinning like a bastard. Almost pressing into his side, but just distant enough. "Or is it because you're not into older guys?"

"Wh— Iiiiii? I'm nnnnot—” Saihara begins to stammer, turning red. Kokichi breaks out into a gleeful _nishishi_ , but logical brain is hoping Saihara would be more specific in his denial. _He didn't outright deny liking men, though!_ his gay brain pesters him. "Anyway! I know you're my age be-because you said you haven't played like that since you were 11, and that was around the time that, the scene was..." He sighs, giving in. "Just please start the game already."

Kokichi laughs. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Before we begin, though... how far ahead are you already?"

"I dunno, maybe a fourth through this glass?" Kokichi says, raising it between them as if examining it. Saihara gestures to the pint.

"Well, m-may I? Or are you going to have me buy my own drink?"

...Somehow, even with the stammer, Saihara still manages to be a smooth motherfucker.

Kokichi, caught off guard, nods dumbly. Saihara takes the glass right out of his hand, raises it to his lips, and takes two long swigs. Kokichi watches, cheeks a bit pink, entranced; the movement of Saihara's throat, the bobbing of his Adam's apple, his eyes fluttered shut— 

_Oh,_ he thinks, _I'm so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote that this is absolutely an AU where chris4life doesn't exist and neither do brosoni or hibiki, obviously, the top ddr players right now could easily beat ouma where he is in this fic and i'm taking artistic license based on the high level players i'm actually close to and how they perform in tournaments. unless you're chris you don't get perfect scores on everything all the time and even when you do it's a fickle mistress. the tournament and/or arcade setting leads sometimes to worse scores-- pads can fuck up and you've got people watching you and the sync might be different from what you're used to at home. the high level players i know can't particularly PFC 18s on command so that's what i'm going with-- i know from experience how finicky scoring can be especially in public places.  
> anyway sorry i just Really Love DDR So Much. also the bits about How It Used To Be are definitely me projecting bc i started as a kid and the scene changed so much when i grew up and i kinda miss old DDR, but what exists now is amazing in its own way. we all have to grow up someday.

**Author's Note:**

> [glossary link again](https://ddrguide.com/glossary/)
> 
> also [this](https://remywiki.com/images/0/0f/PUT_YOUR_FAITH_IN_ME.png) is the mentioned album art for put your faith in me that ouma recommended to tenko
> 
> trivia:  
> ouma's score on chaos: AAA (997510)  
> saihara's score on chaos: AA+ (980430)
> 
> ouma's score on triple journey: AA+ (983570)  
> saihara's score on triple journey: AAA (994030)


End file.
